Broken
by Suitslover14
Summary: Steve sits alone on the balcony, missing, wanting, yearning Tony. But they had a fallout and maybe that's the way it has to be. Stony fiction Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers


**A/N figured I'd try an Avengers Stony fic. Review and tell me if you like it.**

Steve sat on the balcony of the Stark tower. Not in a chair, but on the stone flooring of the suspended bottom. He kept imagining all the little moments. Tony coming home with a present, Tony giving him an IPad, which he figured out on his own (if he could decipher HYDRA tech, he knew how to use an IPad.), Tony coming home early on Christmas, excited for presents, basking in the fire and eating cookies. His heart ached, broken, burnt, gone. It was like when Bucky had fell, he felt like it was his fault, that he was a disgrace to his friends. But it was worse, because Tony was his, his boyfriend, his lover, his, his, his. And he had just sat helplessly as Tony pushed him away. He had tried talking, playfully messing with him, sitting and drawing him. But Tony refused to accept Steve into his life.

So he sat with a glass of wine on the smooth floor of the balcony. Looking at the new world, changed. More complicated, sinister, broken than before. And he had lived in war. He missed Bucky, he missed Tony, he missed Peggy, and he missed his life. It was his, and it was gone. Why? Because of the darn tesseract, the same one that brought him and Tony together. And now he was back on that subject again. Steve sighed, wiping the salty tears off his face.

He and Tony had been doing good, making progress, Tony was opening up, Steve was accepting his new life. Steve had sought refuge in a person that he could share anything with, could just settle down, run his hand through Tony's chestnut locks and speak. Speak about Bucky, and how he could have saved him, speak about Peggy and how he missed his chance with her, talk about how he hated that he missed so much. So much history and life and the end of the war, the victory of winning. And Tony would listen, and when Tony felt like it, he would do the same. Talk to Steve about Howard and Obadiah, about Yinsen and Pepper.

But then today… Steve shuddered. Today, Tony had been different, cold, aloof. Steve pried cautiously, but apparently not cautiously enough. Because there had been yelling, there had been anger, there had been violence and for once Steve cursed his super-serum body. Already forgetting the sting of the hand against his cheek. The reminder of what lay between him and Tony already disappearing. It would have been the only thing left from Tony but it was already gone. Then, after the violence there had been hurt, a lot of hurt. Words and ideas, thrown back into his face. "_Maybe Bucky didn't want to be saved by you; maybe he hated you so much he fell onto a loosened handle on purpose. I know I would have." _Tony had said and Steve had broken. He was strong, kind, conditioned to strong words. But from Tony? And with a subject as sensitive as his best friend? Steve had turned away then, walking away and not turning back. Even as Tony shouted the final words of their relationship.

So now he sat on the balcony, once again trying and failing to drown his sorrows in wine. Once again cursing his body for the inability to get drunk. To float away on a soft cloud of alcohol, even if it meant crashing in a hangover the next day. At least he would have a break, a time where he could just forget. He was cold and Steve gripped the red blanket closer to him, fighting off the chilly New York wind. He used to love Brooklyn, used to wander the streets and bask in the beauty. He loved the new Brooklyn even more. The old architecture mixed with the modern, like his life, his soul. But he and Tony had spent so much time there, had kissed, had loved each other, had sat and watched the sun go down, that even looking at a picture made him want to jump. So for the first time since he was brought back, Steve didn't glance at Brooklyn as the sun sunk below the horizon. Engulfing him in stars and a night where he shut himself outside. Alone. Single. Without an arc-reactor blue glow.

**A/N If I get 20 reviews by the end of July I will write a follow-up chapter. With a make-up and a warmth that all y'all can soak up. So please review!**


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